Speed Therapy Anonymous
by Marginal Benefits
Summary: Thanks to his friend, Hermione, Harry must now attend weekly Speed Therapy Anonymous meetings. Never heard of STA? It's basically a mix of speed dating & alcoholics anonymous. (And no, Harry is not an alcoholic!) You have 15-minute rounds of speed therapy where you talk about your life with a stranger, which would be fine if he wasn't paired up with Severus Snape... SLASH AU
1. Session 1A

"It's just hard, you know?"

"Yeah…I'm sure that having a long distance relationship with Robert Downey Jr. is difficult," Harry conceded, trying his best not to roll his eyes.

The girl across from him sniffled. "It is! People think dating a celebrity is easy, but it's really not," she claimed passionately.

Harry wanted to laugh so badly that he had to take a moment to compose himself. "I mean, he doesn't even know you exists, so that must add on a whole extra layer of complications," he said.

The girl narrowed her eyes, trying to assess how genuine the statement was. Magically, Harry somehow passed the test. "Exactly," she exclaimed. "How would you like it if the guy you're desperately in love with doesn't even recognize- "

Abruptly, a cell phone timer went off, and Harry couldn't help releasing a sigh of relief. Listening to Jessie talk for the past fifteen minutes had been a sort of torture he was unaccustomed to, and he prayed never to have such an experience again. If he had to listen to Jessie go on for one more second about her crazy stalkerish crush on the Iron Man actor, Harry wasn't sure if he could make it…

"Alright, everyone. Fifteen minutes is up," the woman at the front of the bar announced. "It's time to switch partners. The same rules apply here. Before anyone begins speaking, Partner One will swear confidentiality to Partner Two, and then Partner Two will swear confidentiality to Partner One. It doesn't have to be fancy wording, but you both should understand that nothing is to be repeated outside of these sessions. After everyone is finished with that, I will start the timer and Partner One will have fifteen minutes to discuss. Remember that some people just want to talk about their issues while others want to have a discussion. If Partner One is done talking before the fifteen minutes is up, Partner Two may choose to start their fifteen minutes early if they so please. Like before, when you hear the timer go off, it means that Partner One's turn is over and it's now Partner Two's time to talk. Does everyone understand the rules?"

"Yes," the group mumbled.

"Great," the woman said, clapping your hands together. "The person sitting with their back to the wall should move four chairs over."

As chairs scrapped and people started shifting around, Harry took a moment to admire his longtime friend, Hermione Granger. She was running this whole program smoother than either of them had expected. A few years ago, it had just been an idea that came to her out of the blue after getting frustrated with Harry's reticence. Hermione, who had a Ph.D. in psychology, was always bothered when Harry refused to talk about his issues with her, but there are just some things that a man wants to keep to himself. Never one to give up, Hermione had come up with the idea that Harry would feel more comfortable "sharing his feelings" with strangers, people who couldn't judge him because they'd didn't have anything to judge his actions and thoughts on – they didn't know him. Three years later and Hermione had made a name for herself by being the co-founder of Speed Therapy Anonymous, a company that was a mix between speed dating and Alcoholics Anonymous.

In reality, the people at this bar were not alcoholics. They were all people who had issues and had issues discussing their issues. As such, they were granted an hour a week to let go and share their deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets with strangers who swore never to repeat a single thing. Just as Hermione had predicted, Speed Therapy Anonymous, better known by it's code name, STA, was a hit. Apparently, (judging by the thirty people in the bar that night) many people preferred strangers as their confidants, and Hermione was making more money than she knew what to do with. Of course, she donated half of the profits to different charities, but she was still doing quite well for herself.

Before Harry got caught staring at Hermione again, something the brunette frowned upon ("Nobody should know we are friends, Harry! It would break the Bonds of Trust!"), he brought his attention back to his bar table and was surprised to find out that someone was already standing on the other end. He finally looked up an older man and could barely pay attention to his lean figure, thin, dark hair, black outfit, or firm frown.

"You smell fantastic," he admitted, unabashedly.

His new partner raised one eyebrow. "I beg your pardon," he said stiffly.

"Oh, I meant no offense," Harry tried to explain. "I've just been looking for new cologne. Where did you buy yours?"

His partner only narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what kind of joke you're getting at here, but I have no intentions of standing here, wasting my time being ridiculed by a boorish brute like you," the man snapped.

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the harsh tone. Great. It looked like he'd be going through another round of hell. Thank goodness this was the last round of the night. He wasn't sure if he could do this anymore…

"I think everyone is situated now. I'll give you three minutes to do your Oath of Confidentiality before the timer for Partner One starts," Hermione announced, still at the front of the room. Harry tried to communicate silently that they should just ditch Round Two and head out for the night, but his best friend seemed to be purposely looking at the other end of the room.

"So…," Harry started after a minute of silence. "I guess we should get started?"

His new partner made no signs of hearing Harry, and it was starting to get frustrating.

"Okay… Why don't I get started then? My name is Harry Pott-," he began before he heard a snort. Unsure of how to take the interruption, he continued. "Potter, and I swear to keep everything discussed to day just between the two of us."

"I'm sure," the other man mumbled.

Harry frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The man merely stared at him. "I don't think it's necessary to exchange nam-"

Well, now Harry truly was offended. "You don't even trust me enough with your name? How are you going to have a whole fifteen minute discussion with me?"

"It's quite simple, Mr. Potter. I don't intend on having one," he declared, punctuating his statement by crossing his arms.

"Then why are you even here," Harry asked, irritated with his new partner beyond belief. "Why bother wasting your money then?"

The man smirked, and Harry wanted to shrink back. "Oh, it's quite on the contrary. I'm actually _saving_ money."

Now Harry was tempted to roll his eyes because he'd winded up with two loony bins in one night – just his kind of luck. Everyone, except for Hermione, had to pay $15 to participate. Originally, Hermione wanted to run STA as a non-profit organization, but, after a trial round with some friends, she found that people felt like they were not only getting legitimate therapy by paying a fee but also guaranteeing that the other members were truly serious about the program (at least, serious enough to shell out $15 a session). Another plus was that it helped offset the cost of renting out the bar, Hog's Head, for weekly sessions. So there was no way this man should be allowed to just come in without paying a dime. To suggest that he was somehow _making_ money was just absurd. Clearly, the man was not mentally stable.

"And how is that," Harry asked, curious about how Mr. Insane would respond.

"For each session I attend, I get to pocket ten percent of the profits," he explained smugly.

"Ten percent? I'm sorry. What?" Harry tried to clear out his ears, convinced that he had misheard something.

The man smirked again, clearly getting pleasure from shocking Harry. "According to my contract with Ms. Granger, I get to keep ten percent of each session's profits in exchange for renting out my bar at a discount."

"I'm sorry…What?" Harry made a mental note to visit the ear doctor as soon as all of this was over.

"How silly of me to forget I was talking to a middle school dropout. Let me explain this in simpler terms. Let's pretend like Ms. Granger, the young woman dressed in a black suit at the front of the room, made ten dollars selling…lemonade. Sadly, Ms. Granger doesn't have a stand for her drinks and must borrow a table. I agree to lend her a table if she gives me one dollar. Does that make any sense to you now?"

"What does lemonade have anything to do with this?"

The man snorted. "Metaphors and similes too much for you, Mr. Potter? Did you get lost at the ten dollar bit, too? I wasn't sure if you'd been taught how to count up to ten, yet."

Harry recoiled. "I-I will have you know that I have an MBA in accounting," he sputtered.

The man rolled his eyes. "Surprise, surprise. Harry Potter wants to spend his fifteen minutes regaling us all with stories of his success."

Harry glared. "Don't act as if you know me," he spat, no longer able to hide his irritation towards the man.

"Oh, poor Mr. Potter. Nobody knows him. He's so misunderstood. He has no friends. That's why he has to pay to have innocent victims listen to his babble."

"I get all of this because I said I liked you're fucking cologne? Jesus!"

Just as the man opened his mouth to respond, a ringing nose filled the room.

"Nice work, everyone! Now that Partner One has finished, Partner Two may now begin. I'm starting the timer…now," Hermione announced, holding up her iPhone for everyone to see. As she scanned the room to check to see if everyone had starting the second part of Round Two, she finally noticed Harry glaring at her.

Hermione and Harry were going to have a "talk" once all of this was over.

* * *

**A/N:** This idea literally came to me while I was dreaming, so I'd love to get reviews to hear what you guys think about the story so far. To continue or not to continue?

Thanks for your feedback! :)


	2. Session 1B

With a pained smile, Hermione made her way over to Harry's table, nodding at the other pairs as she walked by. When she finally did reach her friend, it was clear that she was less than pleased, which was fine by Harry because he wasn't all that happy about the situation either. In fact, he thought the only one deriving any positive emotion from all of this was his partner who was driving Harry mad with his smirking.

"What is it, Harry? I don't know how many times I have to tell you about the Bonds of Trust before you _finally_ listen," she muttered through her fake grin.

Harry grinned back. "As much as I hate to break the 'Bond,' this is an emergency," he hissed. Fortunately, this seemed to catch Hermione's attention, and she immediately adopted a look of concern.

"What's the matter," she asked, resting her hand on his forearm. "Are you okay?"

"I need to switch partners," he explained bluntly.

Disappointed with her friend's behavior, Hermione threw an apologetic look at the older man before slapping Harry's arm. "Harry! Don't be so rude," she chastised, her cheeks reddening.

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Granger. I don't expect primates to have manners, especially not this one," the man said glibly, earning him a soft snicker.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the betrayal (who's side was she on?) and pointed at Mr. Comedy Central. "Did you not just hear him? _This_ is what I've been dealing with all day," he shouted. "I can't work like this. You need to find me someone else to talk to."

Hermione rolled her eyes as if Harry's demand was childish, something to take as a joke. Well, Harry was not kidding. "Honestly, Harry. Don't take everything so personally. It was just a joke," she explained. Harry felt the right corner of his mouth start to twitch. "Besides, it is too late to switch partners now. We are already five minutes into the second half of Round Two."

She gestured towards the other tables, and Harry was instantly filled with a sense of envy. There they were – smiling, laughing, crying, and patting each other on the shoulder. Being _civil_. And here he was – stuck with Mr. Grumpy. Mr. Judgmental. Mr. Born to Make Harry's Life Utterly Miserable. Was that fair? No. No, it wasn't. And there was only one way to fix things as far as Harry was concerned.

"Then I'm afraid I just have to leave early," Harry mumbled, starting to "pack up" (i.e., check his back pocket for his wallet).

"Not too fast, Mr. Potter. The contract says I must fully participate for the whole session. Therefore, I'm _afraid_ you'll just have to stay here," his partner mocked.

Ah ha! Mr. Big Nose thought he was clever, but he really wasn't. "If you're required to 'fully participate,' then you must say the oath and actually _talk_."

"What do you think I've been doing this entire time, Potter?"

That was simple. "Sulking. Insulting. Ignoring."

"Oh, great. You can make words ending in 'ing.' If I give you the verb 'whine,' can you tell me how to conjugate that?"

Harry growled. How dare he insinuate that Harry was whining. He most certainly was _not_ whining. He was sampling telling the truth!

His partner shook his head when Harry failed to respond. "No need to push yourself, Potter. You've accomplished far more than we ever expected already. Be happy enough that you can say your full name. That will probably earn you a gold star from your caretaker."

Knowing it was useless to even bother replying, Harry tried to plead with Hermione one last time. "If you won't let me talk with one of the others, why don't you just become my partner for the rest of the round?"

Hermione patted his shoulder kindly, her signal that she wasn't going to budge. "Even if that didn't break the rules, you know as well as I do that it would be completely pointless. You never talk to me about what's happening in your life and how you're feeling. That's why you're here, remember?"

"I will today," Harry promised, his desperation leaking through. Hermione only shook her head.

"Why don't you guys talk about something simple today," she suggested. "Severus, what is your favorite movie?" She flashed them both a quick smile before turning back to her spot at the front of the bar. If it weren't for one thing, Harry would have been pissed about being abandoned so abruptly. Fortunately, she'd unknowingly left a little gift to appease him.

"So you're name is Severus," Harry said slyly. Ha! He finally had a name!

Severus glared at him. "You do not have permission to refer to me by that name," he spat.

"Fine. So what should I call you? What's your last name?"

Severus looked him up and down once before sniffing. "I don't believe you to be worthy of such information, but if you insist, you may call me 'sir.'"

It was just so ridiculous that Harry turned left and right to see if anyone else was laughing at this joke. Maybe this was really all some sort of a prank, and Severus really was some sort of standup artist from Comedy Central. It would certainly explain a few things like Hermione's inexplicable allegiance to the other man. But Severus's stern look clearly revealed that all of this was serious, which led Harry to the realization that he had never met a more arrogant man in his entire life. "What? Like I'm your student or something?"

"Surprisingly, I don't teach elementary school brats."

"For the last time, I have an MBA in accounting!"

"Do you even know what that stands for? I'm pretty sure yours means Make Believe Accreditation."

"I graduated from Stanford!"

Severus scoffed. "Of all the lies to tell, Potter…At least try to come up with something slightly more believable. That you passed art class in kindergarten, for instance."

Be the better man. That's what Hermione would tell him to do. Be the better man. Be the better man. Be the better man. "What's your favorite movie," Harry asked while silently repeating his mantra. That had to be a safe topic, right?

"I don't watch movies," Severus stated slowly – as if it was common knowledge. Well, _sorry_ if Harry didn't know what a _stranger _did on weekends!

"Be the better man. Be the better man. Be the better man," he mumbled, convinced he could feel his blood pressure rise. Once he finally composed himself (somewhat), he decided to try again. "So what do you do in your spare time?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Sit and wonder how the education system in this country has failed poor, miserable idiots like you," he responded bitterly.

Harry threw his hands up into the air. "I graduated from Stanford," he repeated vehemently. "What more do you want?"

"I don't know, Potter…The truth?"

He sneered. "How about I bring my diploma next week? Will that be enough evidence for you?"

"No one wants to see your crayon drawings, Potter. You can leave those on your fridge."

This all didn't make any sense to Harry. How could a man that smelled _so_ good be _so_ evil? It seemed odd to most people, but Harry had a theory. He strongly believed that people's perfume and cologne were indicators of their personalities. Take Hermione, for instance. She wore a perfume that smelled clean but not overly sweet, which matched the no-nonsense overachiever quite perfectly. But Severus's scent did not match his persona. Severus's scent was throwing a wrench in Harry's decade-old theory, and he hated to believe he was wrong. There had to be some redeeming quality about the cruel man. Something that made him worthy of smelling so…

"Are you blushing right now," Severus inquired, his tone revealing his disgust at the thought.

"No," Harry denied. "Uh…I think I must have eaten some peanuts earlier...I'm, uh, midly allergic…to peanuts. It causes my cheeks to turn red sometimes." Shit! Harry really needed to get his act together. More importantly, he needed to develop a strategy for finishing up this round as soon as possible, preferably without having to kill his partner.

"Oh, really? Because I'm fairly certain you didn't have such a _colorful_ reaction last week when you graced us with your impression of a squirrel." Severus picked at something in his tooth. "I never knew a man could hold so many peanuts in his cheeks at one time."

How dare he! "I rushed here from work and hadn't eaten all day!" Severus snorted to show how much he believed that excuse. "Wait! You were here last week?"

"Surely you haven't forgotten the matter of the contract this quickly?"

"Well, how come I didn't smell…see, I meant see, you before?"

"Poor memory. Abysmal eyesight," Severus started, giving Harry's black eyeglasses a pointed look. "Nonexistent observational skills. Ignorance. Take your pick."

"Do you just naturally hate _everyone_?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh! Is this my chance to psychoanalyze you?"

For a quick moment, a look of surprise fleeted over Severus's otherwise stoic face, and Harry didn't quite know what to make of it. Oddly, the older man remained silent, which Harry translated as permission to proceed. As such, he took a long look at his partner. The man was definitely older than Harry, but it wasn't like he had gray hairs or wrinkles everywhere. There was just something about him that gave the impression that he'd been places and seen things. Then there was his nose, which was hard to miss due to its massive size. Yet Harry couldn't imagine a more suitable nose to go with the man's pale skin, thin lips, and sharp eyes. There wasn't much more to say about Severus in terms of his appearance (now, his personality was a whole other story). He was taller than Harry, but that wasn't much of a feat. (Harry was fun-sized.) His clothes were drab and forgettable. All in all, not a remarkable guy. If not for his damn deceptive cologne, Harry would walk by him without a second thought.

"Hmm…I feel like you prefer to spend time by yourself," Harry guessed. Severus rolled his eyes, obviously unimpressed. "You don't have many friends, and you don't have a close family. You live in an apartment…no pets. It's small, and it's fairly free of decorations. You don't care for photos, and you're one of those people that laugh at the price tags in art galleries. That's why your walls are bare. You do have one or two plants, though. When you're not here at the bar hovering over your employees – all of whom you're convinced are pocketing a bit more than their tips – or looking over your books to see if you're even making a profit, you stay at home and read the newspaper. The _Times. _You're constantly bored and tend to lash out at anyone who seems to have a life more exciting than yours." He paused to look at his partner, who any amateur cartoonist would have animated with clouds of grey fumes escaping from his ears. Harry must have been spot on, then. "So how close was I?"

"Kindly go f-"

"Time's up, everyone," Hermione announced, holding up her beeping phone. "I hope everyone had fun tonight, and we'd love to see you back here next week."

As Harry turned his attention away from Hermione, he found that his partner had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone around him was applauding and saying their goodbyes, a line forming around Hermione. This happened after every session – the newcomers always wanted to personally wanted thank the mastermind for her brilliant idea. Harry barely noticed. He was too busy staring at the swing door against the back wall and pushing down this peculiar, tingling feeling of regret. He rolled his eyes, more at himself than at his partner's dramatic exit.

So much for being the better man…

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this far! ;) I've decided to keep writing so long as I have people who are interested. ALLSSOO, I'm taking suggestions for Harry's partner at the next STA session, so drop me a message with a character name and their life problems/obsessions/whatever and you might see them in the next chapter. :)


	3. Session 2A

**A/N:** Thanks again for sticking with me this far! If you have any comments about things you liked or didn't like, I'd love to hear them.

Hope you enjoy this new chapter! :)

* * *

There were times when Harry really despised Hermione's abundance of rules. In particular, he thought the one banning alcohol during sessions was absolutely barbaric. Supposedly, the prohibition kept STA members from using beer as a clutch or an excuse for spilling their guts (pun not intended). Hermione was convinced that things should flow naturally, that people should only share what they truly felt comfortable with – and only when they were sober. Well, Harry had had a rough day. No, scratch that. Harry had had a rough week, and his brain was telling him that the only cure was a prescription known as Budweiser beer.

Sadly, there were no refreshments of that variety when he walked into Hog's Head. For a moment, he remembered that he actually knew the pub's owner and theoretically could have persuaded the man to sneak him a bottle when Hermione wasn't looking. Obviously, this was ignoring the fact that said owner hated Harry with every fiber in his body. And just to remove any doubt about where the two of them stood, Severus had (literally) left Harry a sign. At the soda and snack table was now a flyer with Harry's face and a message: "If you see this animal, please don't feed him peanuts. He has an allergy that causes his cheeks to turn cherry red upon consumption. While the sight may be amusing, it is also detrimental to his health. We appreciate your understanding." As if that wasn't enough, the picture of Harry was photoshopped so that his cheeks jutted out to the side and were painted bright red. Then his front two teeth were enlarged and hung over his bottom lip like an overbite. To top everything off, there was a big, black "X" over his edited face.

"He really thinks he's funny, doesn't he?" Harry grumbled to himself as he picked up the flyer, seconds away from shredding it into tiny, little pieces.

"Oh! So you saw the poster? Isn't Severus so clever?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining with amusement. Harry just blinked at the girl he hadn't seen in a week. "Come on, Harry. Where is your sense of humor? Everyone else thinks it's hilarious. It's really lightened the mood around here. Normally people are so nervous and tense at the start of the session, but now they're more relaxed. You think we can get Severus to do another prank next we-"

"I'm really not drunk enough for this," he mumbled as he walked away, not even bothering to turn around to see the sad look Hermione was undoubtedly giving him. Instead, he walked over to an unoccupied table, closed his eyes, and tried to find comfort in the fact that there were seven bars within walking distance that would be open once all this was over.

He must have somehow lost track of time during his daydream of getting wasted at the Three Broomsticks because when he opened up his eyes again, people were finally moving away from the snack table and turning to look at Hermione. Before she started her speech, she shot him a look, and Harry (once again) felt guilty about his behavior. It wasn't Hermione's fault that Harry had had a shitty day at work or that she didn't understand that Severus's flyer wasn't meant to just rouse a few giggles, but Harry had taken out his anger on her. Again.

"I want to thank everyone for coming to Speed Therapy Anonymous today. It's so nice to see returning members and some new faces. I think that everyone has already paid the fee, so we'll just get started right now if that's okay for now," Hermione started, pausing for a moment to see if anyone had any complaints. "Each session has two rounds, Round One and Round Two, that last thirty minutes each. You will be paired with one person in Round One and then we'll switch things around so that you'll have a new partner for Round Two. During each round, each partner will have fifteen minutes to talk. We call these fifteen-minute discussions Part One and Part Two. Once Round Two is over, you are free to stick around and mingle with other members. I will also be staying after for anyone who would like to talk to me privately. But before any of the rounds start, everybody must pledge to their partner that they will not share anything their partner discusses with anyone else. This is supposed to be a private conversation between the two of you that doesn't go outside of these rooms. Does everyone understand how STA works?"

"Yes," the crowd answered.

Hermione clapped her hands. "Wonderful! Then let's have everyone pair up and go to a table."

As Harry had already chosen his table, he just waited for someone to come join him, silently praying that Jessie and Severus would steer clear from him. Eventually, a young man around his age approached him, and Harry was allowed to release a breath of relief. He really needed to let some things off his chest and thought his new partner seemed like a sane guy that he could talk with without fear of being chastised or glared at.

"Hi. My name's Neville," the man said, holding out his hand. Harry shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Neville. I'm Harry," he said, some of his earlier tension slowly easing away. Neville was taller and thicker than Harry, who was fairly lean himself, but didn't seem threatening. He wore khakis and a gray vest over a white dress shirt. He'd probably just gotten off of work like Harry.

"Nice to meet you, too." Neville smiled, and Harry returned the gesture.

"Great! Everyone seems to have paired up with someone. Please take a minute to exchange your Oaths of Confidentiality before starting Part One of Round One. You'll hear my phone go off when you're fifteen minutes is up," Hermione explained.

Harry looked over at Neville. "I promise that whatever you say will stay between us. I won't repeat a word," he swore.

Neville nodded. "And I promise the same," he said simply. "Would you like to go first? You look like you've got a lot of stuff that's bothering you."

Harry laughed humorlessly. Who knew that he was that transparent? "How could you tell?"

"Well, I happened to be behind you at the snack table…" He held his hands up in the air. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it seemed like you and whoever made that flyer have…an interesting relationship."

He rolled his eyes. "It's really not that interesting. He hates me and tries to say things to rile me up on purpose. I respond and say some things that are kind of out of line. He retaliates with public humiliation." Harry shrugged. "That's about it."

His partner raised an eyebrow, wordlessly expressing his skepticism. "Are you sure that's it?"

Harry didn't care about the fact that Neville was sworn to secrecy. He was not in the mood to go into detail about Severus because any discussion would eventually reveal that Harry was _obsessed_ with Severus's scent. As in he wasted his entire weekend going from Macy's to Boston Store to Sephora to Ulta trying to find that cologne. As in his business coworkers were getting suspicious after he started unsubtly sniffing them. As in he'd sometimes wake up from dreams he couldn't remember and swear he could smell it. As in Harry had lost his mind.

"I don't even care about him," he lied. "I was just super irritated earlier because work has been utter hell."

"What's been going on at work?"

Harry frowned. "It's hard to explain, but it's like everyone is ignoring me. I make suggestions. They ignore them. I point out mistakes in their presentation. They ignore them. I just don't know what's happening. Everyone on the board used to talk to each other. Now it seems like they're leaving me out of stuff, which is frustrating because I want to be a part of helping our company grow just like they do. I don't know. It's probably me just being paranoid…I have been kind of distracted lately. I could just be overreacting."

"Have you told anyone at work about it?"

"I tried to talk to Dudley, one of our board of directors, but he always running off to meetings these days. You practically have to schedule an appointment with him a year in advance to get any time with him." There was more to that story, but now wasn't the time to go into his issues with Dudley. That's something he'd probably have to pay a certified therapist for.

"So what are you going to do?" And that was the million dollar question.

"I don't know. It's just that so many people think that I'm a…" Harry stopped, his mind searching for the proper word. "A figurehead. People don't think I'm doing anything at the company, and I don't feel like I _am_ when everyone is doing stuff that I don't even _know_ about."

Neville was quiet for a while while Harry tried to calm himself. Everything was just so frustrating. There were times when Harry felt like a little kid begging his classmates to let him join in on their game. No, that wasn't quite right. He felt like a little kid begging his parents to let him sit with the other adults. He felt like an outsider. Which sucked because all he wanted to do was help. But how was he supposed to help when every morning he'd come to the office, open his emails (that were always _forwarded_ conversations between others), and find out about how his so-called partners had done this deal and made that arrangement with this partner or terminated some contract that he'd never even heard of. If it weren't for his secretary and his Gmail account, Harry would be no more a part of the company than a random stranger. And it was really starting to bother him.

"If you don't mind me asking, where do you work?"

Ah, and there was the question he hated the most. As soon as people found out where he worked (and who he was), they started to treat him differently. But Neville seemed like a cool guy, and something made Harry believe that he wouldn't act like everyone else. "I'm the CFO at Godric's Bank," he replied, carefully watching Neville's face for any reaction.

Both of Neville's eyebrows rose, which was a mild reaction compared to the loud gasps or face fanning he normally got from women and the sneers and shoves he typically got from men. "You've been in the news a lot recently," was all Neville said.

"That's an understatement."

Godric's Bank was the top regional bank and was always under inspection by the press, who wanted to know everything related to the bank from interest rates to Harry's newest date. Harry did his best to keep his life private and away of the eyes of media and had been fairly successful at keeping his own face out of magazines and newspapers. Nonetheless, the paparazzi and news reporters were relentless and fed off of all the controversial things the board members did. It often seemed like their life goal was to turn ever last local against Godric's while simultaneously getting permission to film Harry's marriage ceremony (whenever that would be).

Hermione's phone went off, and Harry was shocked by how quickly fifteen minutes had passed. Sure, his problems hadn't been resolved, but he somehow felt less angry and aggravated with the world. He had Neville – and, in a way, Hermione – to thank for that.

* * *

The next fifteen minutes were actually fairly decent. From Harry's past experiences, he could never have predicted how _good_ he felt just listening to someone else's problems. Like Neville, Harry tried to withhold any criticism and only ask the other man neutral questions that were meant to guide the conversation more than dig through all of his private information. So that's how Harry learned about Neville's secret crush and his childhood battle with his self-esteem. Before they parted ways, Harry wished Neville the best of luck with his mystery lady and Neville jokingly told Harry that he'd be keeping an eye on him to make sure he stayed away from the peanut bowl.

It was only when Hermione directed the partner closest to her to move five tables over that Harry got a whiff of a scent that was equally alluring and repulsive. On one hand, Harry's body hummed with the excitement over finally getting the chance to smell the cologne he'd been searching forever for. On the other hand, Harry's brain was sending alerts to the rest of his body that said cologne could only belong to one person, a person he'd been desperately wishing would disappear off the face of the planet (but leave the name of his cologne behind first). Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils willfully flaring as the scent grew stronger and stronger.

"Mr. Potter," a deep voice said. Harry kept his eyes squeezed shot. "I would love to say it's a pleasure to see you again, but why even bother with such a patent lie?"

Harry moaned. "Why? Why does the world hate me?"

"I would reproach you for assuming the world revolves around you or suggest you save your dramatic monologues for the deaf, but then I realized that it might not be such a hyperbole. I mean, it doesn't seem that inconceivable that billions of people would hate a self-absorbed idiot like you."

Another moan. "Can we just do the confidentiality thing? I'd really just like to get this started with. "

"Heaven forbid you squander a chance to talk about yourself!"

Harry had had enough. "Listen, I think we both said things last week that we didn't really mean. Can we please move on?"

"Yes, you're right, Potter. I believe I implied that you had somehow managed to pass kindergarten last time. If I may retract that statement, I'd like to make a revision. It's quite apparent to me now that it would be a miracle if you'd even gotten past preschool."

This was really too much as far as Harry was concerned. "Are you really that mad about what I said before? If so, I'm sorry. Jeez!"

Severus sneered. "I don't need or care about your disingenuous apologies."

"Then what _do_ you care about, Severus? I've clearly done something to make you hate me this much. Why don't you do the 'self-absorbed idiot' a favor and explain it to me?"

Severus laughed, and it sent a shiver down Harry's back. "You truly don't remember?" Harry gave him a blank look. "Of course you don't! Do you even go to work or do you just lie around at home and let everyone do the work for you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you know about where I work or what I do? As smart as you believe yourself to be, you seem to consistently fail to remember one little fact. You. Don't. Know. Me."

"You presumptuous cretin," Severus spat viciously, spittle flying all over the place. "You seriously think I don't recognize you? You're Harry James Potter, CFO of the bank that's currently trying to steal my business and steal my home."

Blink. That's all Harry could do right now. Stare and blink.

"What?"

Severus stared back at Harry, his fingernails digging grooves into the wooden table. Unsatisfied with the donning look on Harry's face that was two percent disbelief, five percent shock, and ninety-three percent horror, Severus walked away.


	4. Session 2B

**A/N:** Sorry this update was late! Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Drop me a review if you like or dislike it. :)

* * *

This was exactly what Harry feared would happen one day. This was why he was so upset about being left out at work. This was why people called him a figurehead. Because the fact of the matter was that he had no clue about Severus's issues. He'd been left completely in the dark. Sure, he could kind of figure things out now. Most likely, Severus had been approved for a loan to support his pub. (It would certainly explain why he was desperate enough to agree to host STA meetings.) And if Severus claimed the bank was trying to steal his home, that probably meant that he was deemed a financial risk and had to put up his house for collateral. But the details aren't that important. What really mattered here was that all of the other board members clearly broke company policy that required every single board member to review and (collectively) approve a loan. Yet Harry hadn't heard a single thing about the loan until a moment ago. As far as he was confirmed, this just confirmed his suspicions – he was being left out. And God only knew what other things they'd done behind his back.

"Those bastards," he hissed, unconsciously curling his hands into fists.

"Harry. Harry. Harry! Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry raised his head to look at the person calling him, the rush in his head nearly blocking out every other sound. "Neville?"

What was he doing here? Harry laughed. Oh the irony! He had finally opened up and talked to someone about all the things that were bugging him at work, about he was worried that he was being left out of the loop at work. After first talking to Neville, he'd been relieved as some of the tension from work started to dissipate. In fact, he had started to silently applaud Hermione for thinking up a way to get Harry to loosen up and let out some of his frustrations. But not two minutes after expressing his secret concerns about work and his worst nightmare had come true. His coworkers, people he had once thought of as trustworthy friends (not counting Dudley, of course), were leaving him out, making major decisions without even consulting him, and destroying people's lives along the way. How had he let things get so out of control? He was the CFO, for fuck's sake.

"Harry. What's going on? Your partner just stormed off, and you've been glaring at the wall for the past three minutes. You didn't even hear me when I called your name," Neville explained. "Are you okay?"

Harry made a face. All he had heard was "storm," which seemed like an accurate description for the mess going on inside his head right then. He tried his best to push back the anger and focus on the man in front of him, but he was struggling. "What?"

This time Neville leaned in to examine Harry closer. "Harry, you have to talk to me… Was that the guy who made the flyer? Did you have another fight with him?"

Harry shook his head to try to clear things up, and it helped a bit. Enough of the storm had passed that Harry was slowly getting a bearing of his surrounding. "Neville? Aren't you supposed to be talking to a different partner now?"

Neville sighed. "Yes, but I asked him to wait a second while I talked to a friend. Now can you please tell me what happened? You're starting to worry me."

As he remembered the last few words he and Severus shared, he couldn't help but feel a little resentment towards Hermione. If she had allowed him to have a drink during this whole fiasco, maybe he would actually be able to calm down. At the very least, he could do his best to black out and forget what he'd just heard (just kidding…maybe just drink enough to earn a massive hangover the next morning).

"I found out why Severus hates me," he muttered.

Neville looks surprised. "So what's the reason?"

"My bank is ruining his life, and he blames me for it."

"What? How could you have ruined his life?"

"I don't know. I think the other board members – without my knowledge – approved him for some loan that he's missed payments on. I don't really know." With his elbows on the table, he let his head fall into his hands. "I never even knew that this was happening, Neville. They did everything without me like they've _been_ doing for the past couple of months. This is exactly what I was talking about."

Neville walked over to rub Harry's back in an attempt to comfort the distressed man, but it wasn't doing much good.

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting your pity party, Potter?" Severus asked, reappearing out of nowhere. Immediately, Neville let his hand drop to his side.

"W-what? You're still here?" Harry had assumed (or rather hoped) that the Severus had run off again like last time. To be completely honest, Harry was in no mood to continue their previous conversation.

Severus snorted. "For all your talk about my poor memory, you should take a moment to acknowledge your own inability to remember my contract. If you think I'd break it over one stupid conversation with you, you're grossly mistaken."

"Then why did you leave?"

"I could see on your face that you wouldn't believe me unless I brought you proof, so here's your evidence." With that said, Severus waved the manila folder he was holding in front of Harry's face before dropping it onto the table.

"What's this?" He looked warily at the folder. It seemed ordinary (it only held a few pieces of paper in it), but Harry knew it was anything but.

"You can open it up and see for yourself…as soon as your knight in shining armor leaves," Severus said, giving Neville a pointed look. The young man started. "Don't worry. I think your damsel in distress can handle the fire-breathing folder."

Severus smirked at the two of them.

Worried that Neville might be having flashbacks to his schooldays where he'd been harassed by one caustic teacher too many, Harry tried to look as reassuring as feasibly possible. Given that he'd rather deal with a real dragon than an irate Severus, this was a hard task to accomplish.

"It's okay, Neville," he tried. "Thanks for checking on me, but I'm fine now."

The other young man nodded. "If you say so…Talk to you after the session is over?"

"Sure." Actually, Harry wasn't sure if he'd want to stick around Hog's Head any longer than necessary. Nonetheless, he knew he had to lie to placate Neville enough to return to his waiting partner. Once Neville walked off, he prepared himself for the Tirade of the Century.

"Do you ever feel bad about what you do, Potter?"

There was no good answer to that question, so Harry tried to avoid answering with another question. "Bad about what?"

"About how you deceive your own friends, trick them into believing you're actually a decent human being when you're nothing more than a lying, manipulative thief."

Oh, God. "Listen, Severus. I swear that I had no part in this," Harry explained desperately.

Severus sneered. "You expect me to believe the Chief Financial Officer doesn't know anything about what's going on in his own company?"

The way Severus's lips curled up in disgust just set something off. Who was Severus to judge him?

"Yes, Severus! That's exactly what I'm saying," Harry hollered, on the verge of a major explosion. "I'm the fucking CFO, you're right. But I may as well be the janitor for all my coworkers care. Don't you understand? You're not the only one who has been screwed. I have, too! It's no more their bank than mine, yet they're treating me like I'm some incompetent _intern_. They have meetings without me. They sign deals without me. They do _everything_ without me. If my parents hadn't started Godric's, I'm not sure if they'd even keep me around. They obviously want to fire me, but since the know the press would go insane if they ever did, they're just ignoring me." By the end of his rant, Harry's chest was heaving and Severus was just watching him.

"Are you quite finished, Potter?" he asked calmly.

Harry rolled his eyes. It figured that Severus would just dismiss his feelings. Had he even bothered listening to him in the first place? "Like you care."

"Oh, no. I care very much. In fact, I'm in charge of casting for _The Real Trust Fund Babies of Hollywood_, and I think you'd make a wonderful addition to our other simpering brats. How quickly do you think you'd be able to relocate? I think it would be in both our best interests for you to move to California _immediately_, don't you agree?"

" I'm _not_ a trust fund baby. I _work_ for my money," Harry growled, upset by Severus's accusations.

"But I thought that was the whole issue, Potter? That you were indeed _not_ working for you undoubtedly outrageous salary. Was that not what you've been whining about for the past half an hour?"

Why did he even bother explaining things to Severus? "Forget it," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "My life is more complicated than you could even imagine. You just wouldn't understand."

Severus snorted and a flash of anger passed through his eyes. "No, I guess I wouldn't. Tell me, Potter. Tell me about how miserable your life is. Tell me about how you hate your steady income. Tell me about how you hate your posh, little pent house. Tell me about how you hate knowing that you'll always have a job and a place to live." When Harry was silent, Severus made an impatient gesture with his hands. "I'm listening, Potter."

"Listen, I'm not trying to be ungratef-"

"No, of course not! I wouldn't _dare_ suggest that an entitled whiner such as yourself was ungrateful."

"Fine!" Harry threw his arms up in the air. Severus's sarcasm was really getting on his nerves, so he figured he should at least try to work things out with the other man before things got too out of hand. "I get it. You're upset about your loan. What do you want me to do about it?"

For a moment, Severus looked like he was about to launch into some lecture (The Tirade of the Millennium), but he must have changed his mind because he stubbornly kept his mouth shut. The silence was more than uncomfortable, and Harry could feel himself start to twitch from all the unwarranted attention. Even worse, Harry didn't know how to interpret the frown Severus wore. Finally, Severus huffed.

"I'm not sure if there is anything you can do," he started slowly, as if he no longer had the energy to continue the fight. (Had the Tirade II really ended that early?) "Just…look at these files." His defeated tone was unnerving to the least, and Harry realized he didn't know how to handle a Severus that wasn't being sarcastic or insulting.

Severus pushed the manila folder closer to Harry before moving away. And, as if the man had a perfect internal clock, Hermione's phone alarm went off right as he disappeared from Harry's view.

"That's it for the day," the curly-haired girl announced cheerily.

Tracking Neville's approaching figure out of the corner of his eye, Harry snatched the ominous folder off the table and darted off. No matter what Hermione said, he had a feeling that this day was far from over. It was going to be a _very_ long day…And Harry wasn't to go pass another moment of it sober. He needed a drink. Immediately.


	5. Session 3 (MIA)

Harry coughed. It was a pathetic cough, but he tried. "I'm sick," he mumbled.

"Is that so?" Hermione questioned from the other side of the door.

Harry looked through the peephole and noticed that the stubborn girl was still standing there. "Yeah. The doctor's said it was contagious, so you should probably get out of here before you catch something," he warned.

"Is that so?" Sadly, it didn't seem like the girl believed that Harry had contracted a mysterious yet deadly disease. "When did you go see a doctor?"

This was undoubtedly a trap, so Harry gave the best answer he could give – a vague one. "Just the other day."

"Really? So I take it you've been missing work?"

Hearing the word "work" made him almost violently ill. In fact, he could already feel a throbbing emerging from corner of his forehead. He'd actually been visiting the office everyday since the last STA meeting, including weekends. It's just that he only went after hours, hiding from the bank employees. But Hermione didn't know that.

"Yep. I've had a few sick days saved up, though," he said, adding in a few coughs here and there. "So it's not that bad."

"Oh, really? Because I spoke to Luna this evening…"

Harry cursed under her breath. On most days, Harry adored his secretary to no end. She was a quirky little blonde girl from Cornell University who helped him out with anything from ordering his coffee every morning to helping him make business presentations to their international partners. Honestly, he didn't know what he would do without her. The one and only flaw to Luna was her friendship with Hermione. Harry didn't even know how the two of them had met, but their camaraderie was nothing but trouble for him.

"Did you? What did she say?" Undoubtedly, it was nothing good.

"Well, I asked her if you were still in the office." She paused. "You know, because you didn't show up for today's STA meeting."

He could hear the aggravation in her voice and desperately fell back on his excuse as a last ditch shield against the pending lecture. "Oh, Hermione. The medicine my doctor prescribed me is making me a bit drowsy. I feel so _exhausted_. I'm not even sure if I'll make it to bed at this rate." He yawned. "How about you come back another day? " He closed his eyes and prayed that she'd let him off the hook (for once).

"Harry, you and I both know this is just some huge _ruse_ to avoid some big issue you're trying to hide from me. I know you don't normally like to share these things with me, but I'm really worried about you. We're friends, and I get that you don't like talking to me about things but holding all of this inside won't help you, either. You need to start letting people in."

A speech like that was almost always accompanied with a pair of puppy eyes. To avoid feeling guilty, Harry focused on the little pun Hermione had (intentionally?) included at the end and wondered if he had any chance of convincing his friend to just go back home.

"I'm fine. I promise," he swore.

"I would believe you, Harry. I truly would. But Severus has been acting strange, too."

He chuckled. If there were any topic he wanted to avoid discussing more than work, it would be that particular grouchy man. And this was exactly why Harry didn't have "deep conversations" with Hermione anymore. She had this innate ability to hone in on every last subject Harry wanted to ignore and force him to discuss it, whether he wanted to or not.

"What does Severus have to do with _me_?"

This was a question Harry genuinely wanted to know the answer to. Until this moment, he hadn't thought that maybe Severus would go running to Hermione about his problems. How many times before had Hermione sided with Severus on something? The pub owner could have easily persuaded Hermione to come over and convince Harry to look at the loan contract. Well, Severus was out of luck.

"You had a lovers' quarrel last week, didn't you?"

Now the coughs were entirely authentic, and Harry yanked the door open to stare his wildly confused friend in the face. "I don't know what in God's name Severus told you, but we are. Not. Lovers."

Hermione smirked, filling Harry with the sickening feeling that he'd fallen for some sort of trap. "Then what _did _happen between the two of you?"

Sighing, the young man gestured towards the living room where Hermione quickly made herself comfortable in his favorite leather sofa. Harry sat opposite of her on his second favorite leather sofa (he had four or five in total) and scrubbed his face. Despite the fact that there were four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, one gigantic kitchen, a dining room, an office, and the living room they were currently in, Harry knew that Hermione had essentially boxed him in. There was no way he'd be able to escape from this conversation.

"We had a fight last week," he admitted. "He was mad because he'd gotten a loan from Godric's, but he's been struggling to make the monthly payments. According to his contract, if he fails to make the payments two more times, Godric's will own his bar _and_ his house."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. "Harry, that's terrible! No wonder he's been so touchy lately." Harry thought "insane" was a better descriptor than "touchy" but let it slide. "So what are you going to do to help him?"

Harry scoffed. "Help _him_? There's nothing I can do to help him. He signed a contract." Harry would know. He'd read the damn thing at least twenty five times this week alone. It was a thirteen-page document full of the typical bank mumble jumble that he'd always hated. If it wasn't for the fact that Harry knew Severus wasn't the kind of guy to sign something without reading it first, Harry would feel bad for the guy. As it was, Severus had knowingly entered the deal, so there was nothing Harry could do about it.

"Yes, but I thought Godric's prided itself on being a bank that actually _cared_ about their clients. Don't your commercials say something about loan repayment rates being ninety-five percent or something like that? Everybody loves you guys because you give make sure the people you give out loans to can _actually_ pay the money back."

All of that was true. Or, at least, it had been. Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, had watched as greedy banks and appaling interest rates ruined of their neighbors' plan, split up their friends' marriages, and made everyone's lives generally miserable. That's why they got together and created their own bank – one that worked to make sure _everybody_ was happy. That meant reviewing each person's loan request thoroughly. Every board member had to look it over and decide whether or not the person was safe for a loan. "Safe" meant that the loaner would be able to pay back the loan and interest without having to sell an arm and a leg. Godric's didn't want to see their clients fail. They wanted their clients to get the money they deserved and be able to one day return it without any sort of hassle. That's why the people loved Godric's; people that went there were always treated fairly.

The problem was that it wasn't like that anymore, not since Dudley got in his mind that he wanted to take over the bank and run it by his own rules. Now everything was spiraling out of control.

"You don't understand, Hermione. Dudley has been going behind my back and got everyone else on the board to join his side."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Join his side?"

"Yes! He's staging a takeover!"

"Dudley?" she asked incredulously. "He's your cousin. He wouldn't do that!"

Harry shook his head. "That's what I thought. I mean, we've always had our differences…" They both knew that "differences" was a euphemism for years of torment (tight wedgies, stolen lunches, vandalized lockers, stolen college acceptance letters, and slashed tires). "But it turns out that he's the ringleader behind this entire thing. He's been working with the others to get me kicked out of the board. Me!" He pointed to his chest to emphasize the fact.

Hermione still looked bewildered. "Do you have any proof, Harry? Maybe you just misinterpreted a few things."

Harry wished it was a simple as that, but it wasn't. Ever since Severus had given him that stupid manila folder, he'd been doing some investigative work on what was going on. What he found was two or three dozen other cases of loan contracts he'd _never _seen that were signed by Dudley and his crew of traitors. All of the contracts had absurdly high interest rates and made the loaners put up their cars, houses, and businesses in case something "went wrong." Trusting that Godric's wouldn't try to cheat them out of their money, person after person had accepted the deals and signed their names on the dotted line. They never realized that they'd been handed loans Dudley-dick Arnold knew they couldn't possibly repay.

Why would Dudley do that? Because he was running a fairly simple scheme. The clients would sign the deal. They'd miss payment after payment and eventually default on the loan. That's when Dudley and his new best friends would sweep in take away their prized posessions. What would they do next? Pretend like they never touched a thing while the secretly sold off all the stuff online. It was despicable, and Harry was horrified to find that these shady deals had been going on for the past year and a half. To know that he was even associating with such thieves made him upset every time he thought about it.

"I have proof." He laughed humorlessly. "They tried to hide it from me, but I found it."

Only then did Hermione start to brighten back up. "So what are you going to do to help Severus?"

Harry frowned in confusion. Hadn't they already covered this? "I can't help Severus. His signature is written clearly on the contract, and there's no way out of it. That's not even the most important thing right now. I need to be trying to find a way to get control of my bank before Dudley runs it into the ground."

A look of disapproval. "Is that what you think your parents would be focusing on?"

He sighed. "Listen, even if there was some loophole in the contract, I wouldn't be able to do a single thing about it because I essentially don't exist at Godric's anymore. I'm no more than a puppet that sits there and smiles while they go off and prey on the next unsuspecting soul."

Hermione shook her head, obviously unimpressed with Harry's bout of self-pity. "That's not true, Harry. There's so much you can do, and you know it. You're the CFO! You just need to ask yourself what's really making you mad – the fact that Dudley and the others have gone behind your back or the fact that _your_ bank is _destroying_ people's lives."

Okay, yeah. When he found out about all the stuff that had been happening at Godric's, he'd been furious. It had really pissed Harry off that Dudley, his own cousin, was trying to run him out of the bank his own parents had started from scratch. He felt betrayed and disrespected. He didn't feel like he could trust anyone at work besides Luna, and he hated that he couldn't rely on the people he used to think of as family. And now he was starting to realize that what really irritated him was how they could betray and disrespect the _clients_ like that. Those clients had put their trust in Godric's, and all the bank had done was (shamelessly) run off with their money.

What was worse was that he'd actually known someone that had gone through Dudley's scam. And what had he done? Nothing. Had even given a heart-felt apology? Nope. He'd done nothing but go on and on about how Dudley was ruining_ his_ life.

"Hermione, I've been so stupid," he grumbled, completely embarrassed by his earlier behavior. (When had he gotten so selfish?)

Hermione stood up and came to rub Harry's back. "You're not stupid, Harry. You were hurt by what your coworkers did. That's understandable."

"No wonder Severus hates me! He's the one sitting there afraid that his business is going to be taken away from him and all I've done was ignore him and whine about myself." He hung his head.

"So are you going to try to talk to him?"

Squinting, Harry looked to see for any signs of intoxication. "Is that a joke? Severus doesn't want to talk to me. Do you not remember what happened the last two times we were paired together? If you don't, I'll give you the Cliff Notes version. There was one self-absorbed banker and one rightfully outraged client. The bank gives the client a loan destined for the Land of Defaults. As the client approaches the Land of Defaults, he realizes that he's screwed. One day, a banker comes to his bar. The client gets mad. The ignorant banker gets mad. The client hates the banker, so they fight every time they're so happen to be in the same room. The end. Moral of the story? The client and the banker should probably just act like they don't even know each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Maybe that's how it was before, but now things will be different. You understand that you should have been more sympathetic, and I'm sure he'd be willing to listen to you. Just apologize and maybe you two can work together to renegotiate his contract or something." She gave him a pleading look, but Harry was shaking his head. While he realized the man deserved an apology, Harry doubted that he'd be forgiven. Hermione was just being too optimistic if she thought Severus wasn't just going to throw a drink in his face.

She must have spotted Harry's skepticism. "Did I forget to mention that you owe me an hour of conversation after you skipped today's meeting?" she said with a fake grin.

Damn. He'd been hoping that they could just bypass that little fact. "Uh, about that..."

"I'm glad to hear we're on the same page!" She patted Harry on the shoulder as if the two had reached some kind of understanding. "Severus will be expecting you at Molly's Kitchen tomorrow at 1pm."

"What? How did you…?"

"Here's his phone number," she said, handing him a piece of scrap paper with black scribbles.

He squinted at the characters. "What does this even say?"

It was too late. Hermione was already out the door.

(It seemed like this was an emerging pattern – people walking out before he realized the conversation was even over…)

* * *

**A/N:** I actually started writing this chapter last week, but my flash drive with the file of it broke a few days ago. :(

I hope you guys are satisfied with this version...


	6. Session 3 (Makeup Session)

The waiter set down the cups of water and slid two straws across the table before disappearing again.

"First, I'd like to apologize," Harry began. A snort. He exhaled deeply, reminding himself that he didn't expect this to be easy. Severus was a difficult man, after all. "I was being a selfish asshole before, and I should have apologized to you earlier on behalf of my bank and the situation you're in now."

Severus just sat and stared. It was all Harry could do not to throw his hands up in the air. What else did the man want? I guess he could try complimenting the pub owner. (That always went over well when he tried it with Hermione.) He was wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Along with the black slacks, the outfit looked like the perfect mix between formal and casual. It was a very attractive look on Severus. Wait. What?

"Is that it?" Severus asked dryly.

Shit. So he did want to hear something more. This was going to be a problem since Harry hadn't quite figured out a reasonable solution to Severus's problem yet and hoped to avoid that fact until a bit later (preferably at Never o'clock).

"Umm…"

His lunch partner rolled his eyes. "You said 'first,' implying you had at least one other thing you'd like to say." Harry fidgeted in his chair. "Really, Mr. Potter. Do try to hurry up. Molly's may be open until 9pm, but I have no intentions of waiting here until closing for you to get the nerve to finish the rest of your speech. So let's hear it. What else would you like to say?"

Some sympathy is needed here. Harry was already nervous as it was. Apologizing wasn't one of his strong points. It wasn't necessarily that he hated saying sorry. He understood that responsible men admitted when they did something wrong. Harry's problem was that he freaked out imagining what would happen next. Would he be forgiven? Would he be ignored? Would he have a glass of wine poured over his head? (This had happened once with one of his girlfriends. It was in college, and he didn't want to think about it.) He could never quite be sure how the other party would react, and that always unnerved him.

As mentioned before, there was also the matter about fixing Severus's little dilemma. When Hermione dropped that bomb on him, he only had about 18 hours to prepare for the lunch meeting. That wasn't nearly enough time for Harry to think of any legal loopholes that might dig the older man out of the hole he'd fallen in. To be honest, he only had one plan, and he knew that Severus would bite his head off for even suggesting it. So Harry had essentially come to Molly's empty-handed aside from the twenty-second apology spiel he'd memorized on the ride over. Clearly, it hadn't taken Severus long to catch on to how ill-prepared he was for this, and he knew the man was going to make this terribly uncomfortable for him.

To make matters worse, Harry had been frustrated the moment he walked into the tiny diner and found Severus seated at one of the booth tables at the back. Normally, he enjoyed opening the door and being welcomed by the smell of a fresh apple pie coming out of the oven and a warm greeting from the owner, Mrs. Molly Weasley. This time was different. He's opened the door and immediately was distracted by…

"You smell really nice," he blurted out, surprising the both of them. Oh, great. He winced. Why couldn't his mind ever come up with something else to say?

"Are we at this again," Severus asked seriously.

"That's the second thing I wanted to say," he lied, not sure why he was even talking anymore. They hadn't been together for more than three minutes, and he'd already messed everything up.

"Mr. Potter, is this some hobby of yours? Do you enjoy wasting people's times with these jokes? Because I, for one, fail to be amused, and I thought I had made that quite clear the first time you tried this comedic routine."

Harry grimaced at the growing look of anger on Severus's face. "No! No! I didn't mean it as a joke." He scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I'm kind of obsessed with scents, and your cologne _fascinates_ me."

Inhaling, he tried for the millionth time to describe the smell. It was like a rain forest and an ocean were somehow combined to create something beautiful and mystical and wonderful. Then some god captured the air around it, bottled it up, and sold it to Severus. All Harry asked was that Severus share some of his supply with him. Or at least tell him where to buy his own stash. But he supposed this wasn't the time or place to try to convince the man to give up his secrets.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to focus. "You're right. We have more important things to talk about like your contract." A grunt. "Severus, you understand that the conditions were binding, right? Unless you tell me they forced you to sign the document under duress, you're kind of…well…stuck."

His hands formed a steeple. "Tell me, Potter. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"No, of course n-"

"Then do you really believe I didn't read over _every word_ of the contract before even _touching_ a pen?"

"Well, most people don't actually re-"

"That's not what I asked," he growled.

Harry sighed. "No, I don't believe that. I know you read every single sentence. That's why I'm confused. Yes, the bank gave you a horrible deal. That's a fact. No one's going to argue with you about that. What I don't understand is why you'd agree to it."

Severus leaned back in his chair, some of his anger apparently diffusing. "I didn't."

Harry pressed his lips together. "You read every word of the contract?" Severus nodded. "But you didn't agree to it and yet signed the contract anyway?"

"I signed _a_ contract," he corrected.

It took a moment for Harry to realize what the other man meant. "Are you saying there are _two_ contracts?" He slumped back in his chair, his mind boggled by all the implications that this meant.

Severus sniffed. "I'm almost impressed you managed to work that out."

Harry looked up at the man, eyes wild. "Are you telling me that they _forged_ your signature on this other contract?" That was illegal for God's sake! They could wind up in jail!

A raised eyebrow. "I'm telling you that I signed a contract with a five percent interest rate but was sent a copy of the contract in the mail with a fifteen percent interest rate and that both of them supposedly have my signature. You can make of that what you will." He flippantly waved his hand.

He didn't understand how the man could be so calm about this. "I can't believe… How could this have…? Why would they…?"

"Ah, I wondered when this would happen." Harry threw him a confused look. "Your brain must be strained after coming up with so many complete sentences in one day. I was waiting for the signs of distress to appear. You held up longer than I expected"

"Severus! They lied to you and stole your money," he shouted.

Severus blinked. "I know," he said simply.

"We've got to do something about this!"

"Like what, Mr. Potter?" Some of the heat returned to his dark eyes, and Harry started to question how much of his anger had been just concealed this entire time.

Nonetheless, Harry was starting to run out of steam as he realized this was the problem he'd been facing since the beginning – there didn't seem to be a way out. "Did you try talking to them?"

The man laughed at his naivety. "And what would I have said? 'I think you gave me the wrong copy and accidentally signed my name on it. Can I have the original copy back please'?"

"I don't know," he whined. "Maybe they would have felt guilty and switched out your contracts."

Severus didn't even bother acknowledging that idea, and Harry felt frustrated with everything, not the least bit with his inability to do anything.

"So what was your plan? Were you just going to sit there and pay the ridiculous charges until when? You ran out of money?"

Severus didn't take too kindly to his misdirected, snappy tone. "What did you expect me to do, Potter? If I didn't pay, they'd take away my pub, which so happens to be my _only source of income_," he snarled.

"Shit," he mumbled, deflated once again.

"I would have put it more eloquently, but yes." He too seemed to have calmed down.

For a few minutes, none of them spoke. The waiter came back with their lunch specials, and both of them began to eat away without really tasting their meals. How could Harry enjoy his burger knowing the man sitting across from him had been ripped off and was suffering the consequences alone? Eventually, he just stopped eating.

"So what made you decide to bring your files to me in the first place?" Harry asked.

The question seemed to have caught the man off guard. "I thought you could help," he admitted hesitantly.

Fuck. Now Harry felt even worse than before. His bank had messed Severus's life up so badly that the proud man had to stoop as far as hoping to get help from the one person he loathed most. He suddenly felt ill.

"You did?"

Severus smirked halfheartedly. "You may be ignorant, but you're not stupid."

While Harry still felt the need to excuse himself and puke, a part of him was soothed by the quasi insult. Whether or not Severus would actually say so, Harry realized that the pub owner basically admitted to trusting him, if only a little bit. Severus believed that he wasn't another Dudley. And Harry was shocked at how much that meant to him.

"Thanks," he said softly.

Severus grumbled something that Harry couldn't decipher.

"Hey," he said, waiting for Severus to make eye contact. "I'll fix this." Severus looked skeptical. "I promise."

"Humph."

Harry smiled. Maybe the man didn't believe him now. Maybe Harry didn't exactly have a plan. But he was going to get Severus out of this mess one way or another. That much he knew. In the meantime, he figured he might as well use this time to get to know his client (?)/STA partner (?)/friend (maybe it was too early to use that title) better.

"So how did Hermione convince you to come have lunch with me?" he asked, exposing a question that had been nagging him the entire time.

"She said she wanted to discuss a new idea about the meetings," Severus replied.

Harry frowned. "Oh, really? Funny. She didn't mention anything about that to me last night."

Which was odd because they were business partners. Sure, he left most of the business decisions up to his female friend, but she always ended up filling him in before making any major changes. Thinking about it, Harry wasn't sure if this was necessarily true anymore. Hadn't she done that deal with Severus without consulting him? What was she up to this time?

"Perhaps she was still upset that you didn't show up yesterday," Severus suggested.

"Maybe," he conceded reluctantly. It was probably just a convenient lie, anyway. Still, Harry wanted to hear what fake idea Hermione had come up with. "So what is this new idea about?"

"I was under strict orders not to discuss the matter with you."

He groaned. "Are you serious?"

"A woman's wrath…"

"No kidding! Hermione can hold a grudge forever… So what did you guys talk about at the meeting?"

Severus raised his eyebrow. "The confidentiality agreement, Mr. Potter."

"Oh! Whoops. I forgot about that."

"Indeed."

"So…"

He didn't know how to continue the conversation. What could they talk about? Of the two times they'd been paired together for STA meetings, they'd never had real conversations. It was more like insults and accusations. Now that they were actually being civil, Harry was at a loss as to what to say.

"Want to go see a movie?" he suggested out of nowhere.

There! It had happened again! His mouth was acting crazy, and Harry like to believe that at some point during the meeting, some crafty aliens had landed and decided to take over his speech. They'd lead him to a false sense of security in which he felt like he had control over what he was saying and then press some buttons that would make him say stupid stuff like "Fuck! You smell really good" or "I want to be friends with you so that I can smell you more hours of a day. Since lunch is over, let's go to the movies so that I can sit next to you and sniff you more discreetly." (Okay, that was probably paraphrasing a bit.)

Unfortunately, said aliens were microscopic, so Severus hadn't seen them hijack his brain. Therefore, he was left to question Harry's sanity. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I only go to work after hours," he answered quickly. (Why couldn't Severus just put Harry out of his misery and say no already?)

"Is that so?"

"You said you don't watch movies, but I always thought it was more due to a time constraint than a lack of desire…and you seem free now," he explained (because why not make things more awkward than before?).

Severus sized Harry up as the younger man fidgeted in his seat, waiting for the onslaught of insults that were bound to come. "I suppose I do have a few moments to spare before I open shop."

His eyes widened. Had Severus just agreed to go out with him? And, Jesus, what had that alien done to his chest? It was beating at some erratic speed that _surely_ wasn't healthy. Were they _trying_ to kill him?

"Were there peanuts in your dish, Potter?"

"Huh. No, it was just an ordinary burger. Why do you ask?"

Severus stood up, and Harry followed suit. "Oh, no reason. I was just wondering why you were blushing…again."

And do you know what the worse part was? Those damn aliens didn't even have the common decency to shoot him and put him out of his misery. Great. This was about to be one interesting day.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you guys liked the development in this chapter! Review and let me know what you think!

Also, if you have any movie suggestions, I'm willing to listen. ;)

I'm leaving a comment for a reader below because (s)he left a message without signing in, so I couldn't PM him/her. I won't normally do this, so I apologize to any of you who get upset or annoyed when you authors respond to reviews within chapters.

_Moi:_ Thanks for the review! It seemed like you were a bit frustrated with Harry (or how the others were treating him), but I hope you stuck around to read this new chapter. I really appreciated your feedback because I never saw it as Harry getting treated like a door mat. I was more focused on seeing Harry as selfish and self-absorbed, so you allowed me to really sit back and think about things differently. Thanks for giving me this new point of view! I hope that you'll be more satisfied with the character development as the story progresses. :) If you do read this, please leave another review to tell me what you think of this newest chapter.


	7. Session 3 (At the Office)

**A/N:** Thank you guys so much for leaving reviews! I love hearing what you guys think of the story and enjoy talking about it with you. For example, **JaspersStoryAlter**'s review helped influence this very chapter. ;) And a special thanks goes out to all the rest of you who have that reviewed multiple chapters (ex. **Moi** and **Marioluver**). You're the best!

* * *

"Hi, Luna," he greeted happily, clocking in at exactly seven o'clock. "You know you don't have to stay in this late."

The blonde looked up from her computer and smiled, her fingers still typing away. There were a million reasons why Luna was the best secretary in the world, but her ability to multitask was probably only rivaled by Hermione (which might explain their problematic – from Harry's standpoint – relationship) and he always admired how loyal she was. With all the scandals happening in the office, it was nice to have someone around that he knew he could count on.

Lately, she'd started hanging out at the office afterhours to be there when Harry arrived. He used to feel guilty about making Luna work overtime, but she always insisted that it was her pleasure. Harry was often messing around in the office until midnight, and it would make no sense for him to force his friend to stay around while he shuffled through papers, made frantic notes, and sighed heavily. That's why he made her promise not to stick around for the rest of the night. Nowadays, she typically left shortly after he arrived, but it was enough time for them to share a short conversation before she finally got her well-deserved break.

"You know it's no problem, Harry," she said. She tilted her head to the side and hummed. "You seem happy today. Can I take that to mean you and Severus had a good time?"

Harry just shook her head. When Luna first came to Godric's, she had correctly guessed that Harry had totaled his new Audi even though he'd been hiding the accident from everyone. He secretly believed that she was a descendant of Sherlock Holmes. (Okay, that would make her some fictional character, but that's beside the point – the point being that Luna was crazily perceptive.) That's why he was only mildly surprised that she'd picked up on his mood and the cause for it.

"Let me guess. Hermione told you about our meeting," he surmised, walking over to the blonde's desk and picking up a few documents waiting for him. He frowned at all of the junk mail and tossed them into the wire basket on the floor.

"She had me add the meeting to your Google calendar," she admitted.

Satisfied with the explanation and proud of himself for his correct deduction, he started to make his move towards his office. Luna's station consisted of her desk that held her computer and phone and a high tech printer/scanner/fax machine. Right behind her station was an opaque glass wall that had one door on the left end, which was the entrance to Harry's office. He didn't know who was the architecture for the building, but he was happy that he and Luna were able to work in such close proximity.

As his hand touched the doorknob, Luna spoke up again.

"Oh, Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I've been meaning to go to the movies this weekend. Did you and Severus enjoy yours?"

How had s-? "Uh…yeah. It was okay…We watched _Nebraska_."

"That's the black and white one, isn't it?"

Still baffled as to how his secretary had known about their trip to the theaters, he just nodded.

"It's not a very romantic choice," she commented.

"No, I suppose not."

"So were you able to get in a kiss?"

Harry was choking. He didn't know what had gotten stuck in his throat, but he was suddenly having trouble breathing.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry. No one is going to blame you for taking things slowly, especially since you haven't gone on a date in months. Look on the positive side. You may not have gotten the kiss you wanted, but at least you were able to sit next to him, right? I'm guessing he must have smelled really nice."

Seriously! Who was this girl and from which planet did she descend from? Was she related to those aliens that had mentally attacked him earlier? One of their friendlier cousins? How could she know all this and say it so calmly?

Luna pressed a few buttons on the monitor and started to pack up, seemingly oblivious to Harry's slight panic attack. Once she'd cleared all of the papers off her black desk, she pulled down her bright purple cardigan and then turned to Harry.

"I'm sorry, but I have to get going now. Call me if you need any help," she instructed before leaving out the doors Harry had just entered.

* * *

As soon as he walked into his personal office, Harry headed straight towards his closet and knelt down to put in the combination for his safe. When the heavy black door clicked open, he tried not to sigh as he pulled out the safe's only contents – a 3" ring binder. It saddened him to have to keep the binder tucked away like that. For years, his safe had been empty – a clunky waste of space. He'd had no reason to use it because he felt safe (pun partially intended) at work. These people were his family; he had nothing to hide.

Now that he realized what was going on behind doors, he had to keep his own secrets under lock and key for fear that the others might find out what he was up to. The binder held the names of all the people Dudley had screwed over and copies of their contracts, which were highlighted and circled and notated on like a rented textbook. He'd spent night after night pouring over these things, trying to find one ambiguously worded phrase that would set these people free. But what could he expect? These people weren't hired for no good reason; they were good at their jobs.

Minerva, the first name on his list, had been manipulated into a particularly unforgiving agreement. She was only an English high school teacher, so her income stream was nothing to brag about. Nonetheless, she was a huge cat lover and was appalled by the number of strays she found wandering the streets and wanted to do something to help. She came to Godric's last year with a request for a few thousand dollars to help her create a local animal shelter. In return, she had to pay a twenty-three percent interest rate and put her old Corvette up for collateral. From the make, Harry knew the car could be sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars at any decent auto auction, but Dudley had somehow convinced the aging woman that it was nothing more than a piece of scrap metal. She'd signed the deal and was now one missed payment away from forfeiting the shelter and her precious car. She saw a problem in the community and went to Godric's to get help to solve it, yet Dudley had only seen an old woman he could take advantage of.

Sadly, Minerva wasn't the only victim. There were so many more. A man named Remus Lupin had needed money to pay his friend's attorney. His friend was facing some serious jail time, so Lupin had been desperate enough to pledge his apartment. There was a young woman by the name of Katie Bell who was willing to give up her precious necklace, a family heirloom of sorts, in exchange for some extra cash needed to pay for graduate school. Poppy Pomfrey, a certified nurse training to become a physician, had dreamed for years of starting a little clinic in town. She was able to loan some money from her wealthier friends but was still short a few dollars. Sensibly, she turned to a bank for help. Like in all of the previous cases, Dudley gave her an unthinkably high interest rate (hidden in a footnote on the seventeenth page of a sixty page document). To guarantee that she'd be able to repay the loan, which of course she could not, she had offered up her patent on a medical drug she'd helped develop. Given the increasing use of the drug, the patent was worth way more than the $30,000 she got in return. This was a fact that Dudley decided to keep to himself, though.

Looking at the names and reading about their problems, Harry had to try his best not to fall into a deeper depression. How was supposed to help these people? They were in deep shit, and there didn't seem to be anything Harry could do to help. In an ideal world, this would all be so easy. Harry would just collect all the evidence he had on Dudley's scheme, march on over to the police, and tell them all about the fraud. Dudley and his conspirators would be arrested, and that would be that. The bad boys would be caught, and that would take care of the bank's policy that contracts could only be terminated if all board members signed off. All Harry would have to do is hire some lawyers who would work some magic and nullify the contracts. Everyone, minus the criminals, would live happily ever after.

Except Harry didn't live in an ideal world. He lived in a world where the media blew things out of proportion and where people panicked at even the whiff of trouble. So if Harry went to the police about the fraud, he knew that the whole town would freak out. Godric's couldn't be trusted anymore! Godric's was stealing _everyone_'s money! Godric's was a scam! And that's when there would be a rush of people at the bank, lined up to withdraw their money and close their accounts. In a matter of days, Godric's would have to file for bankruptcy, and all of his parents' hard work would go down the drain. Moreover, the townspeople would have no choice but to turn to the greedy banks Godric's was trying to run out of business. They thought staying at Godric's would lead them towards disaster, but they were more likely to get cheated at one of the larger banks who would see the flood of new customers as the perfect chance to make more money.

No, Harry couldn't turn to law enforcement quite yet. This was something he'd have to deal with on his own.

As he leaned back in his black leather chair, binder in lap and mutilated pencil in mouth, a brilliant idea came to him. If you can't beat them, join them! (Okay, maybe it wasn't "brilliant" since that saying was pretty cliché. But that's not the point.) He'd start going to work at 8am like normal, but this time he'd actually confront Dudley about his plans. Yet, instead of demanding Dudley resign (which would again lead to a scandal and Godric's demise), he'd ask to join in. Don't get the wrong idea. Harry wanted no part of their despicable misconduct. However, if he acted like he was one of them, he could build back their old relationship. As soon as they were buddies again and their suspicions were lowered, Harry would ask for their signatures on a few "new contracts" of his own, and they'd never suspect that they were actually agreeing to nullify all of their bad deals_ and_ slowly retire from the contract. He'd lie and say it was just another loan contract and make sure they didn't read the contract_ too_ carefully. Once they signed the dotted line, Minerva and the others wouldn't have any more monthly payments to worry about, and Dudley and his accomplices would be punished in a way that would save the bank face. Even better, they wouldn't dare go public about it for fear that their own crimes would be brought to light.

Ha! If only Severus could see him now! He wasn't just "not stupid." He was a fucking _genius_!

* * *

**A/N:** Ahh I hate writing long paragraphs of description and no dialogue. Blah

No worries, guys. Severus will be back next chapter. ;)

(P.S. If Harry's plan seems confusing to you, please let me know so that I can make it clearer in the next chapter.)


	8. Session 4A

**A/N:** Sorry this took forever to upload! I've been having a busy month and haven't had much time to write. :(

* * *

Harry had had a terribly long week, and he felt like he'd been drained of every last bit of energy. He had never imagined how tiring faking smiles and laughs could be, but trying to be buddy-buddy with Dudley was like having another full-time job. The sad and frustrating thing was that he'd barely made any progress. Dudley and his friends were still whispering about things when they thought he wasn't listening and giving vague answers whenever Harry asked what they were working on. At best, he'd have to wait two more weeks before he made any real move.

To be honest, the only thing that had gotten him through the week was the thought of seeing Severus again (and Luna with her ever-present mug of fresh coffee). Yeah, it sounded ridiculous – not to mention cheesy. Harry had hated the older man, sure. But that was before. After having lunch together and going to the movies, he _almost _felt like they could be friends. "Friends" as in Harry would have sent the man a Facebook friend request if he'd had a profile. ("What is this? A book of faces? What do you take me for, Potter? Some kind of perverted stalker? No, you can keep that in the bookstore thank you very much.")

It was hard to explain, but he was slowly starting to enjoy their back-and-forth barbs. Unlike Dudley, Severus could always be taken at face value. He hid nothing, even if there were things he should have kept to himself. (For example, the whole theater probably didn't need to know that Severus thought _Nebraska _was "only in black and white as a last ditch gimmick to redeem an abysmal script and a lackluster cast that, when combined, would put an insomniac to sleep.") His brutal honesty was refreshing in a way. In any case, he was almost looking forward to the STA meeting.

* * *

When Harry opened the doors to Hog's Head, he thought that the gods were telling him that all of his pain and suffering was for a purpose. Because what else could explain this glorious turn of events? The bottles of beer on the snack table were sweating as they bathed in the metal bucket full of ice, and Harry couldn't remember seeing a more beautiful sight in his life. He wanted to take a picture of it, frame it, and hang it on his living room wall. It was a masterpiece, and he couldn't think of a better reward for playing nice with Dudley and his goons all week.

As he advanced, he distantly heard someone all out.

"Harry, wait!" the familiar voice shouted.

Some part of his brain registered the command, assessed it, and eventually determined it to be irrelevant. As far as he was concerned, the rest of the world was not important. All that mattered was Harry and the beer. "I've been waiting long enough," he mumbled, reaching into the bucket to retrieve his hard-earned prize. In one fluid motion, he twisted off the cap, raised the bottle, and chugged the first taste of Heav- "Bhsacjsedhfedf! What the hell is this?"

Hermione wiped the drops off of her face. "If you had taken a moment to actually listen to me, I would have told you," she said calmly as she examined the golden drops on her hand.

"Told me what? That April Fool's Day came early this year?" He glared at the offensive bottle of not-beer.

His friend sighed as she reached for a napkin. "I decided to start selling beer at these meetings to help bring in more money."

"First of all, _this_ is not beer," he corrected, waving the imposter in the air. Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry suddenly thought of something. "Hey! Was this the idea you were talking to Severus about?"

"Yes, I thought it would generate more revenue that would help Severus…you know…pay off his debt," she explained, lowering her voice.

Harry groaned. How could he complain about her idea now? "I guess that's smart," he admitted begrudgingly. "We are in a pub after all."

"I'm glad you approve," she said with a smile.

Harry held up a finger. "Wait. I never said that I approved. I can't exactly forgive you for trying to pull off this _poison_ as beer," he teased, ducking as she threw her napkin at his face.

"I will have you know that that _is_ beer, Harry."

"In what alternate universe does that count as beer?"

"In all universes. It's non-alcoholic beer."

Was she being serious right now? Or was Harry the only one that noticed that oxymoron?

"I still don't think people should be intoxicated at these meetings," she continued. "That's why my no alcohol rule is still in place. However, those who want a beer can still have some. Don't you see? It's a win-win."

Harry had to shake his head. For being such a smart girl, Hermione really could be clueless about some things. How could non-alcoholic beer be a win for anyone? To express his thoughts on her logic, he chucked his "beer" in the nearest trashcan, getting a jolt of satisfaction when it clanked to the bottom.

"That would be seven dollars, Potter," a new voice drawled from behind him.

"As if! I think you're the one who owes_ me_ seven dollars for ingesting that crap," he countered, turning to smile at the face of his quasi-friend. "I almost died."

"If only we were so lucky," Severus retorted. It wasn't entirely clear whether or not the pub owner was joking, but the whole I-want-to-kill-you/how-could-such-a-stupid-specimen-exist-on-this-planet vibe had diminished a bit, which was enough for Harry.

"Hey," he greeted.

Severus raised a black eyebrow. "Hello, Mr. Potter."

"You smell nice," he complimented cheekily, partly to see how the man would react and partly because it was true (as always).

"And your suit is drenched in beer," Severus responded, looking Harry up and down.

Since Harry had attempted to guzzle down most of the bottle in one go, that didn't come as much of a surprise. He so happened to be wearing one of his wool jackets, so the material was thick enough that the "beer" didn't entirely soak through to his chest. But he wasn't too concerned about checking out the damage. The dry cleaners could take care of that. No, what he was more concerned about was Severus's outfit. The older man was clad in a navy blue knit sweater with a shawl collar, dark jeans, and brown leather shoes. It could have been an outfit pulled out of an H&M store catalogue in all honesty.

"It doesn't matter. You look nice enough for the both of us."

(Shit. The mind-controlling aliens were back!)

Severus snorted. "Were you under the false impression that I wanted to be seen in public with you again?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Now wait just a minute, Severus. You had a good time, and you know it."

"You can hardly call spending two hours watching that amateur film anything beyond an utter waste of time."

"Maybe you didn't like the movie," Harry conceded, "but you _devoured_ the popcorn." It was true. During the movie previews, they had a full bucket of popcorn. Not ten minutes into the actual movie and there was not a single kernel left.

Severus picked at imaginary lint on his sleeve. "I told you not to put butter on it. If you feel like you didn't get your fair share of snacks, then that's your own fault."

Was Severus really blaming it on him? "Oh, that's really matur-"

"You guys went to a movie together?" Hermione squealed. "Harry! You didn't tell me that!"

Oh, yeah. They'd forgotten Hermione was still there... "Well, would you look at the time." He rolled up his sleeve and taped the face of his Cartier watch.

"Har-"

"Ms. Granger, I do believe your clients are waiting," Severus cut in, waving his hands at the ten odd people in the room. Hermione wavered. "I know how much you pride yourself on being professional."

And those were the golden words that propelled Hermione into motion. She did, however, glare when the pair shared a look of triumph, and it was obvious that the conversation was far from over. Her eyes said that she would get to the bottom of this, and Harry made a silent reminder to himself to talk to Luna about keeping the things they'd talked about a secret.

"Welcome, everyone," Hermione said from her typical spot at the front of the room. "I'm so glad to have you here."

Harry tuned out the rest of the speech. He'd heard it enough times before. Instead, he scanned the room for any more familiar faces. Fortunately, it looked like Jessica was M.I.A., so at least he didn't have to worry about ending up with her again. Even better, he thought he saw Neville standing up in the front. His back was facing Harry, so he couldn't say for sure.

"If everyone is ready to begin, you may now find a table," Hermione instructed. "The timer will start as soon as everyone has paired up."

The banker turned to his right, where Severus had been standing, to ask if the man wanted to pair up. He'd been going back and forth about the whole idea since their lunch date (meeting, he meant meeting). They weren't at the stage of being best friends, but they were starting to get to know each other better. Harry truly wanted to know more about the grumpy bastard, but he also feared that Severus might ask him about his plans to get Severus out of the loan mess. Somehow, he didn't think Severus would appreciate his progress report (0% close to reaching his goal). In the end, he decided that he'd take a risk and partner up with Severus anyways.

His decision didn't matter, though, since Severus had already claimed a table with some blonde partner. In fact, they seemed to already be in the middle of an intense conversation.

"Harry! Harry!_ Harry_!"

"What?" he snapped, jerking his eyes away from the blonde man.

Neville chuckled. "Severus really knows how to push your buttons, doesn't he?" the man asked.

Seeing who it was that interrupted his thoughts, Harry immediately relaxed. "Neville! It's good to see you," he said, shaking hands with him. "Sorry about that. I guess I was distracted. So how have you been?"

"I've been great. Hey, do you want to be partners again this week?"

"Of course!" Harry smiled and led the way to one of the few remaining tables.

Once they finally were situated, Neville was the first to talk. "I promise to keep everything we talk about between the two of us."

Harry nodded. "And I won't share anything we discuss with anybody else, either. Do you want to go first?"

Neville shook his head. "No, you can go first. It looks like you have a lot of stuff you need to get off your chest. What has Severus done to rile you up this time?"

He tried to play it off. "Pssh. He hasn't done anything."

His partner wasn't buying it. "Come on, Harry. You were practically growling at his table."

This caught Harry off guard. "Was I?" Neville must be exaggerating.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Harry. I'm sworn to secrecy, remember? So what has Severus done this time?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing really. I just thought we'd be partners for the first round. Not that I mind being with you or anything," he rushed to add.

Neville took a step back from the table. "Wait. You _wanted_ to be partners with him?"

"Yeah…I know. I must sound insane right now."

"Well, I am kind of confused. I thought you didn't like him. Isn't that why you skipped last week's meeting?"

So much for a little small talk to get things going. Harry looked down at the tile floor, desperate for any sort of distraction. Couldn't they start of talking about something ordinary before moving on to the deeper stuff? That sounded like a good idea, right?

"Isn't it amazing how clean this tile is? All the bars I typically go to have sticky floors, which is really annoying. You walk out of the bar, and the bottom of your shoes are all disgusting. Bleh. I hate it."

"Harry…"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine! I don't don't like him."

Neville cocked his head to the side. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…I don't know. That we're not archenemies anymore?"

"I see." Neville considered him for a moment. "When did this change?"

"I guess I had a little revelation last week."

"About what?"

"Well, you know about the whole loan fiasco, right? I guess that talking to Severus made me realize how much people rely on Godric's and that I want to prove to him - _them_ - that they can truly trust me. That they can trust Godric's again. That we really do care about them. That I want and will help him. Them. That I will help _them_." Harry scratched the back of his neck. He was confusing himself. "I don't know. Does that make any sense?"

Neville gave him a small smile. "Yeah, it does. Your parents would be proud of you, of what you're doing."

Harry returned the smile. "You think so?"

"Of course! So do you have a plan yet?"

Harry filled him in on his idea of gaining Dudley's trust and then tricking him into signing a new contract. He could tell from some of Neville's reactions that he was slightly skeptical about how successful his plan would be, but Neville still expressed his support.

"It seems like a tricky plan, but if anyone can pull it off, I know it's you," Neville said, earning him a quick hug.

"Thanks, Neville! You're the first one I've told about all this, so it's nice to have someone who I can actually talk about this stuff with now."

Who would have thought that these STA meetings would actually be helpful? Hermione might actually be onto something with this whole "sharing your thoughts and emotions" thing. He'd never quite seen the point before. He was an adult. He always thought that meant that he should be able to handle things on his own. He'd been basically living on his own ever since his parents had passed away, which made him fairly independent (and maayybbee adverse to the idea of relying on others for help). Yet he could admit now that he felt a weight off his shoulder every time he talked with Neville.

"You're not alone," Neville reminded him. "I'm here whenever you want to talk. Even outside of these STA meetings. Here, give me your phone."

Harry, pleasantly shocked by how good of a friend Neville was turning out to be, reached into his back pants pocket and handed his iPhone over. Neville punched a few buttons and then handed it back.

"I'm on Facebook, too, if you want to look me up there," he added.

Harry couldn't help laughing. "Okay. Thanks!"

Neville gave him an odd look but didn't question the odd reaction. "So if you skipped last week's meeting, how did you end up talking to Severus?'

Harry sucked in a breath. He wasn't sure if he was ready to start analyzing what happened last week. "Nothing gets by you does it?"

His partner chuckled. "Sore topic?"

Harry grunted. "The short version is that Hermione forced me to have lunch with Severus to make up for skipping the STA meeting, and we ended up having a not horrible time."

"What's the long version?"

"The long version is that there are aliens inside me. I don't know much about them, but I think they lie dormant in my brain until they smell Severus. Then they start doing crazy things like making me ask people out on dates and not complain about having no popcorn left to eat."

Neville blinked. "I'm sorry. What? You have aliens in your head?"

Harry nodded. "Imagine Cupid and the Devil having tiny, wicked babies fated to embarrass me for the rest of my adult life. Yeah, they're living up here." He tapped his forehead for emphasis.

"So, really, the short version is that you haven't quite come to terms with your newly-discovered attraction to Severus?"

Now it was Harry's turn to blink. "Those are _completely_ false accusations," he argued. "You're on the wrong track so badly that a GPS couldn't even help you. That aside, I think you should meet one of my coworkers."

Neville frowned. "I thought you hated the people you work with."

"Not this one," he said mysteriously.

"Time's up," Hermione bellowed.

* * *

**A/N:** I originally planned on only having six more chapters, but now I'm thinking about bringing in more scenes with Neville, which would make it a bit longer. Hmm...


	9. Session 4B

It was more than obvious that Hermione had purposely made it so that Harry and Severus were partnered up for the third time, but he couldn't quite figure out what she was up to. He knew he should feel nervous about what this all meant and how Hermione would later torment him about it, but he was more focused on the fact that he had a chance to talk with the older man again.

"Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Severus," Harry imitated in the same tone.

"What a…surprise….to have you as my partner again," he said sarcastically. "I can only hope this does not become routine."

Harry placed a hand over his chest and winced. "Don't you enjoy talking with me?" he asked.

"Not particularly, no," he answered curtly.

"You're just being grouchy because you're upset that we weren't paired up together in Round One," he declared.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Do tell what online site you received your degree in psychology from. I'd like to call and have them shut down immediately."

"Ha, ha, ha. Be honest. You missed me."

"Quite the opposite, I'm afraid. I had been praying all last night that you'd skip another meeting. Alas, the Devil brought you here and punished me further by pairing us together."

"This isn't the Devil's work, Severus. This is Fate," he said, gesturing in an overly-dramatic motions.

"If this is Fate, then I must have done something particularly heinous in my past life."

"Are you kidding me? To end up frien –"

"_Friends_, Mr. Potter?"

"-ds with a prince like me? That makes you the luckiest man in the universe."

Harry didn't even bother hiding his grin. It was crazy how much one evening could change things. Three weeks ago, they would have been all but spitting at each other's faces. Harry would have been tensed, waiting for the next jab. And Severus wouldn't hold back on his attacks, trying to get at any insecurity he should spot. Sure, they still bickered, but now things weren't as…intentionally hurtful as before. He could even say he even say that he was starting to enjoy their squabbles.

"Of course. I'm eternally grateful to have made your acquaintance."

"That sounds more like it," he encouraged. "So…how was your Round One with Mr. Blonde? Were you bored to death after you realized that he paled in comparison to moi?"

"Mr. Blonde, as you so call him, happens to be a stimulating conversationalist, unlike people such as yourself."

Harry frowned as he had a flashback to how Severus was leaned in across the table, avidly listening to his blonde partner. He promptly squashed the rising sense of irritation, though. The curiosity was too strong for him to let the subject drop entirely, but he there was no need for him to have an outburst now – not when they were finally getting along (so to speak). All he had to do was act nonchalant about the whole thing. Then Severus would probably explain that they'd been fondly remembering Harry's photoshopped picture or something like that, and that would be that.

"What did you guys talk about?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual manner.

"Our favorite positions," Severus replied calmly.

"Your favorite _what_?" Harry squealed, his voice rising a couple of octaves and eyes bulging. Heads turned their way, and the pub owner scowled.

"Perhaps your mother forget to teach you a little thing called your 'inside voice.' In comparison to the outdoor zoo where you live, you typically don't scream and when you're indoors. You act civilized."

The Stanford graduate was still boggled. How could Severus be so composed about all this?

"You talked about _what_?" Harry asked, barely keeping his volume in check.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What we talked about, and what you continually fail to commit to memory, is none of your business because we swore to keep our conversations private. That means, in case none of this is getting through your tiny brain, that what I say to anybody in this room stays between me and that person. Is that understood?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, properly chastised. The man's cool demeanor was gone now, and Harry could see that Severus was truly becoming aggravated.

"Good. So does that mean you'll stop making grotesque faces whenever, God willing, we aren't partners?"

Harry's mouth dropped. Grotesque faces? (How rude!)

"No, not like that. That, I believe, is your signature 'Idiot Face.' Or I suppose we could just call it your 'Everyday Face.'"

Harry closed his mouth. "I was _not_ making faces," he protested adamantly.

Severus crossed his arms. "I could hear you growling from across the room, Potter." Fuck. So Neville hadn't been lying. "The question is – What was it that got you so upset? Are you that much of a gossip that you throw hissy fits whenever you are left out of a single conversation? Or was that an expression of your true feelings about our affiliation? A slip-up?"

"You honestly can't believe those things," Harry said desperately, though by the looks his partner was giving him, he wasn't too sure what the man was thinking.

"Then how do you explain your open displays of hostility this evening?"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Do I really have to say it?"

When he didn't get a response, Harry peaked one eye open to stare at the glaring pub owner. So he had no choice.

"I guess I was jealous," he admitted quickly.

"Jealous?" Severus repeated, his voice betraying his confusion.

"Well, it's just that I had never seen you and Mr. Blonde talk to each other before, but you seemed like you were actually enjoying his company. The two of you weren't even fighting like the two of us did the first time we met. You actually seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. And…I don't know. I may have envied the connection you two seemed to have." He shrugged.

"I don't understand. Why would it matter if I conversed like a normal person with another partner? Is that not what you and your Knight in Shining Armor did?"

It took a moment for Harry to make the connection. "Neville? Yeah, but that's different. He's a nice guy." Severus narrowed his eyes. "No, that's not what I meant! I just meant that it's easy to get along with Neville. Actually, I don't know what I'm saying. Forget it. I'm glad you and Mr. Blonde had a good time. Can we just say our vows and move on?"

Severus watched him for a moment. "If that's what you want."

The banker nodded, grateful that Severus was letting him off the hook. "Yes, that's what I want. Let's start now, shall we? I vow to keep this conversation between the two of us."

"And I the same."

Harry clapped his hands. "Great! So what should we talk about?"

There were so many touchy subjects (add Mr. Blonde to the list) that Harry didn't exactly know where to start. They couldn't talk about work, that's for sure. They couldn't talk about anything related to the pub because that would be too close to the subject of how Harry planned on saving the pub from foreclosing. The same thing would hold true if they were to talk about Godric's. What do adults talk about beside work? The weather?

"How about your friendship with Hermione? I've always been curious about why such an intelligent young lady could bother hanging around a loafer like you."

Despite the insult, Harry was happy that the man had chosen a relatively safe topic.

"Hermione and I have known each other for years. We're childhood friends from way back. Everything began in Mr. Turner's English class. One day, when I was out of the classroom using the bathroom, Mr. Turner announced a book report we'd have to do in pairs. When I got back from the bathroom, Hermione was the only person left who didn't have a partner. You see, everybody knew that Hermione was the teacher's pet and would schedule countless meetings to read and discuss the book then outline, write, and edit the paper. Well, let's just say that no one else shared Hermione's passion for studying. We all just wanted to go home, play video games, maybe read the summary off of SparkNotes, and then write something quickly the night before it was due. Of course, if you were partnered up with Hermione, there was absolutely no chance of that happening. So they just chose to pair up with each other, and that meant that Hermione and I had to work together."

"This is exactly why I hated group projects in school," Severus muttered, shaking his head. "The smart are forced to be dragged down by the feebleminded who think they can freeload and leave with a free lunch. If you ask me, Group projects are medieval grading assignments that should be eradicated from every syllabus."

Harry laughed at the intensity of the man's boycott against group projects. "Well, you can imagine I was a bit nervous about the whole partnership thing. She has always cared more about school than I, so I thought she'd be really strict about everything. I was surprised when she patiently went through the book with me, telling me what all the long words meant and helping me figure out the message the author was trying to portray. She was super helpful and nice. We got a 98.7% on it, her lowest grade that year."

"You see! Exactly my point," Severus grumbled. Harry ignored him as that had happened to be his _highest_ grade that year.

"Nonetheless, she didn't resent me for the score and we started to hang out together more," he continued. "I don't exactly know what made her stick around, but we eventually became best friends. I owe a lot to her, you know."

"Care to share an example?"

"Well, for starters, she helped me get my ass in gear in college. College was the first time I'd really left my hometown, and it was just really hard for me to adjust. I was skipping classes all of the time and barely passing my courses. I had tons of friends from home, but when I got the letter saying I was one F away from getting expelled from school because of my pitifully low GPA, she was the one who Skyped me every morning at seven to make sure I was awake and ready to go. She'd review class material with me in the morning and then check up on me at night to make sure I had finished the homework. Pretty quickly after this started, my grades started improving. I kept trying to convince her that she didn't need to babysit me anymore. It was clear that she wasn't getting any sleep, and I always worried about how she was able to keep track of her own work. She was already taking six classes a semester as it was. If you add on my schedule, it was like she was taking eleven. That wasn't mentioning all the clubs she was in and her weekly visits to professors' office hours. I was tired of just being another burden, so I stepped things up. I spent the next two semesters working my ass off – getting private tutors, kissing up to teachers, and drinking more than a healthy amount of coffee. Then, I surprised her junior year by showing up on her campus."

He remembered her face as if it were yesterday. Her curly brown hair had been particularly unruly that day, and she had quickly shoved it into a messy bun. She was in line to get her morning espresso when she had spotted him and promptly dropped her books on the ground before running over to squeeze him tightly. In fact, it was probably his favorite college memory.

"She thought I was at Stanford for a surprise visit, so she was shocked when I told her I'd transferred there as a student in their joint bachelor's and MBA program. Once Hermione saw in person how serious I was about my studies, she was able to focus on her own work more. We still met up to have coffee every other day, but she didn't have to keep an eye on me anymore. We could finally talk as friends instead of tutor and tutee. She graduated first but decided to stick around to get her Ph.D. in psychology, so we got a few years to hang out together and have fun... I never thought I'd be having sleepovers in college, that's for sure."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I think that's one of the things most men look forward to."

Harry did his best not to gag. "Ew! No! Hermione's like a sister to me. Jesus, Severus!"

Instead of appearing apologetic, Severus seemed more amused at making his partner squirm. "How was I supposed to know?"

"Well, I guess it might be hard for an outsider to tell. Ever since I left Stanford, we haven't been as close…"

He'd been taking over Godric's, and it'd been a stressful transition. There was just so much work to do that he barely had any time for anything beyond a text or two. Thankfully, Hermione was relentless and refused to let their relationship go down the drain. Were their moments when he got sick of her nagging? There were too many to count! But now he was grateful for her persistence and glad that she didn't give up on him even after having to deal with weeks of evasive answers and cold shoulders.

"These STA meetings have brought us back together, though," Harry added, glancing briefly at his psychology friend.

"How wonderful for you," Severus drawled.

"All right. Since you seem bored by my story, why don't we talk about you? Do you have any close friends or family members?"

"Well, I guess _you_ would say that I'm fairly close with my godson."

Harry pointed at himself. "Me? Why would I say that?"

"Because you just admitted that you were jealous of our relationship not twenty minutes ago when he and I were talking about people's different _positions_ about the meaning of equality."

The dark-haired man groaned as he dragged a hand over his face. "Mr. Blonde is your _godson_?"

"That would be correct. Spectacular deduction skills, if I may say so myself."

Harry ignored him. "So I basically just made a fool of myself."

"Indeed."

The banker groaned.

"I wouldn't fret over it too much. You already do a sufficient job of presenting yourself as a basic idiot on a day-to-day basis, so I doubt anyone noticed anything peculiar about your behavior today."

"How comforting," Harry grumbled.

The side of Severus's mouth quirked. "I apologize, Mr. Potter. Please instruct me on the proper way a friend comforts his associate who so happened to have made asinine assumptions that led him to miserable misinterpretations of a familial bond and thus imitate the noises of a cross canine?"

Harry glared. "You and your alliteration enjoy making me feel stupid, don't you?"

Severus smirked. "Few things please me more. Now what is your answer?"

What did Harry have to lose? Severus already thought he was a "basic idiot." Whatever damage he caused from this next move would add very little to the overall wreckage of this meeting was turning out to be.

"Well, he might try to make his 'associate' feel better by treating him to some cookie dough ice cream from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour down the road."

Severus's face was pinched. "Cookie dough? Raw?"

"Yes, it's my favorite flavor."

"Then you can surely buy your own." Two fails in one night. Harry wished he could say it was a record. "But I suppose someone needs to talk to these shopowners about serving raw dough to their customers. Imagine how many other health violations they must be breaking! It is my duty as a responsible citizen to go there immediately after this meeting and stop this lunacy."

It took a moment for Harry to determine that the other man was joking (one could never tell with Severus). Harry decided to play along. "That's all well and good. But can you wait to have that confrontation _after_ I get my order?"

Severus sniffed. "I suppose."

Harry grinned. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a complete failure after all.


End file.
